Lyrics

Washington Sun

8 year-old me, curly ringlets, wearing spandex in neon pink & green
On a new bike, spokey-dokies, clinking clopping,
as the wheels are turning around
To the market- chore money in my pocket
Sing to myself and the horses in the field.

Catching tadpoles in Cougar Creek then watching them grow
& the dogs are wet and waiting for their stick to be thrown
& I am here & I am young
Eating lemonheads and soaking in the Washington sun.

Up the ladder to the treehouse, in the corner of the backyard that I know
My big sister, she’s in charge- she plays the mother
And what she says goes
Plastic flowers decorate the walls in here
In our own world, surrounded by a sea of pines.

So many years ago
& half a world away
I lingered there a while
But there I couldn’t stay
I can’t go down dusty roads
Past is past- no turning back.